


i can play the strings of your death

by typicalAcademic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Dom/sub, F/M, Grimdark, Horrorterrors - Freeform, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typicalAcademic/pseuds/typicalAcademic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when they kissed now it was nothing like her kisses before. she was a sunny day with a downpour, she was the choking empty space and the scorching stars. she was terrible to behold, she was like heaven to touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can play the strings of your death

He’s never been one for devotion. bodies are bodies, not temples or wonders or even tombs. He wouldn’t say it aloud in life but now that his eyes have gone milky white any pretense is gone. The only thing keeping him going is rare moments of her laughter, garbled and bubbling like murky sludge in a swamp, and she when tucks him into her arms and whispers Eldritch horror into his mind.

He would not now say that bodies cannot be objects of the divine. Not since he first saw the Horrorterrors swell around her, felt their creeping, sensationless prodding at the corners of his psyche, like something in the corner of his eye.

When they kissed now it was nothing like her kisses before. She was a sunny day with a downpour, she was the choking empty space and the scorching stars. She was terrible to behold, she was like heaven to touch.

Sometimes he wants to stop; not stop kissing her, but stop breathing. He can hear it whispered when they curl up together, not sure if it’s leaving her lips or in his ear like tiny worms. _Would you love more if I was like you_ , he asks, face buried in her lap, the only way he can feel small anymore instead of like all of time is stretching out inside him. _Sometimes I wonder if you are tired of me_ , he murmurs. Something strokes his hair, it could be her fingertips or theirs, he’ll never ask. _My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly_ , he recites.

She compels him, or they compel him, he’s not sure he makes a distinction anymore, he follows her suggesting touches with submissive joy, kisses when she asks him to, bites down hard enough to draw blood if she had any, licks and sucks and prods inside her until she’s undone, until her swirling darkness fills him, rewards him, coos over him while he loses himself in overwhelming nothingness, in her eyes, in her permission, in her commanding will over him.

Afterwards, each time, she wraps him in their inky darkness and coddles him like an infant, like a baby brother, like a lover. _What would Freud say_ , he asked once. She grins, and her lips crackle with magic.

**Author's Note:**

> written for graveyard smash on lj
> 
> prompt:  
> homestuck, dave/rose  
> my body's a zombie for you.


End file.
